


Cafe Cats and Wheezing Regulars.

by amostlyokaykid



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: CatCafe fic nobody asked for tbh, M/M, lol tags are so dumb sometimes, waiter!dan, you'll like it though.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9276320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amostlyokaykid/pseuds/amostlyokaykid
Summary: I like routine, I like not messing up, I like not being awkward. I like a lot of things, but that doesn't mean that I'm not awkward, have a routine, and don't mess up.Why does this guy invade my mind when I least expect it? Has this has become my new routine, thinking of a regular at the cafe I work at? Why am I so awkward with him, when I'm nonchalant with anyone else? Why does it take me ten minutes to craft a drink for him, rather than the usual two to three with anyone else?Why can't my routine for life be normal?





	1. My Bent Spoon

**Author's Note:**

> Can someone please tell me how to itallize stuff on here? I have no fucking clue how. I'll do a shout-out if that makes you any more tempted to help me.

_You had one job, Dan. Maybe it wasn't the hardest job that you could've fucked up at doing, but that doesn't mean you fucked any less up._

This thought I had towards myself wasn't the nicest, but when it takes you three broken cups and a bent spoon to get in your head that you suck at being a waiter, the thought sticks afterward. Now on my fourth cup of peach tea, carefully trying to _not _mess up in any way while I prepared the drink, I realised that the only reason why my boss Anna hired me is because she felt sorry for me. Hell, I would be too, after the many casualties caused by me have happened at this cafe.__

I work at the Cozy Kitten, which is a small cat cafe about two streets from time square, London. So the business is good, and the prices are just about what you would dream to pay for at Starbucks, making the toll on customers rising every day. I applied because for one reason: I love cats. My pride and glory and pure devotion to felines forcing me to apply once I saw the 'NOW HIRING' sign in the window of my favorite place to get coffee.

There was this specific cat that I seemed to get along with the most, his name is Susan, (which I like because it goes against the idea of names being meant for "only boys" or "only girls") a short-haired black cat that was around nine months old when I met him. He wears a pink collar with a little bell that rings when he walks around, which is the cutest thing ever. The story Anna told me about his name was that when she got him, she originally thought that Susan was a girl (it was hard to tell when was still a kitten), and the boy who was her friend at the time relentlessly tried to call him "Zepperella" as in Led Zepplin. But the kitten was already responding to the name Susan, so why change it when he turned out to be a boy?

Another interesting fact about Susan is that if you look closely enough, you can see that he has a little limp in his back right leg. The reason for that is because Susan was getting in the way of a payment transaction between a customer and a past employee. Well this past employee got pissed off that Susan was in the way, so he knocked him off of the counter, causing the four-month-old kitten to fall wrong on his leg, resulting in a broken leg.

Flashing back to the present, I watch as Susan rubs his head against a customer's hand. They're hand skillfully scratching behind his ears in just the way he likes it. They had short, black hair, that matched Susan's in comparison, and in the angle I was at behind the counter, all I could tell was that they had pale skin as well. I finished the drink, finally, after some trial and error. The drink (coincidentally) was actually to the customer. And as I delivered the cup, I learned that the customer was a male adult, who had sapphires for eyes. And as cliche as this description sounds, I ignore the thought completely once I have it and place the ceramic cup onto the table and left.

It was only when I was walking away did I hear a yelp of pain from behind me, and I turned back around to see that the customer had spilt his tea all over himself. I tried to conceal my laughter as I viewed this charade of him frantically grabbing for napkins from the napkin dispenser in front of him, only to find out that it was empty. I head my way back to his table, grabbing a (full) napkin dispenser on my way and setting it down in front of him. The man looks at me wide eyed and motions for it, taking as many napkins as possible once his hands are on the object.

"Dan! What did you do?" A voice from behind me exclaims. I tense up at the words, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Anna is rushed by the customer immediately, bombarding him with questions when she's by his side. 

"Did he do this to you?" She asked, a hand firmly gripping his shoulder as she did so. 

"No!" I exclaim for the customer, in return, Anna gives a sideways glare towards my direction and resumes her interrogation. 

"Did the asshole behind me bother to help you at all?" "How long did it take for him to make your drink?" "Do you think that the more he stands here listening to these questions, he'll become less of a prick?" "Maybe the right thing for him to do is to wet a rag with warm water and return it back to us so then you won't have giant coffee stain on that nice button up of yours," 

I dash towards the back of the cafe at the last comment, grabbing a rag and turning on the faucet and running the rag under the water once it got warm. I drained the cloth so it wasn't as soaked, and headed back to where Anna and the customer were waiting for me. I handed the rag to him, and he gratefully took it, wiping at the mess at the bottom of his shirt, making sure to carefully wipe at the edges of the pink-orange stain, making it not as obvious that he even had spilt coffee on himself in the first place. 

As soon as he finished, Anna turned to me, ordering that I make /yet another/ drink for him since he was drenched all over his lap. I glared at her, turned around, and walked towards the back of the cafe. 

\------- 

Two days of monotonous working passed by until I noticed the customer from before again, he was wheezing quite loudly, and that seemed to bother me. It was recommended that customers allergic to cats do not come to the cafe since the Cozy Kitten is a _cat _cafe.__

As I watch him for a few more moments, I decide to let him know about our policy. I head over to where he's sitting, but I stop midway when the man goes to take out an orange container with a white cap. He twists open the container, retrieves a pill, closes the container, and pops the pill into his mouth. Soon after, his coughing dies down and he returns to the book he had set down earlier. After witnessing this, I tentatively start my journey to him again. 

It takes me clearing my throat for him to notice me standing there. 

"Hello, um, I'm supposed to let you know about the recommendation that the customers that have cat allergies are advised to not stay here," I say, looking down at the ground at the man's shoes, which were blue with red laces. I compared them to my own, which are black with zippers instead of laces. 

"Oh! Of course, I usually try my best to control it when I _am _here, but Pepper really seems to be taking a liking to me today," He replied, his point being proven as Pepper rubs her head on his left arm over and over again. Pepper is a Persian cat with white fur and dark gray circles on her body. Her tail, ears, and part of her right eye taking tribute to the grey as well as the two spots on her back. It's shedding season for her this time of year, and once Pepper is done using the customer for her own massage needs, she leaves a poof of white fur on his arm.__

"Touche," I reply, watching as the male brushes the hairs off of his maroon sweater. He sticks his hand out to me when he's done. 

"I realised that I should probably introduce myself to you or something since you're probably going to see more of me around here. So, hi. I'm Phil," He said with a grin plastered on his face, and it took a second for me to process what he said before I took his hand in mine and shake it. 

This is more awkward than I thought it would be. 

"Oh, yeah. I'm Dan," I mumble rather awkwardly, my brain already finding multiple ways I could kill myself by just standing where I am right now. 

"Have you ever read this book?" Phil immediately jumps into the conversation, holding up a book called 'Ms. Peregine's Home for Peculiar Children'. I've read the book, even liked it. But the movie was so inaccurate, that I turned out to start _hating _Tim Burton's movies.__

"I have, yes. In my opinion, don't watch the movie. It's a waste of time," My voice deadpan's, looking Phil in the eye with a straight face. He looks down after my comment, though, muttering to himself before looking back up to me. 

"I watched the movie first," he said, guilt written all over his face. 

"Why on earth would you do such a thing?" I laugh out, shaking my head right after. Knowing that the look on his face was priceless at my reaction to his statement, Phil covered his eyes with his hands, curling over to put his elbows on his knees. He shakes his head in disbelief as well. 

"I didn't even know it was a book until I saw 'A film adaptation of the book, written by whats-his-name'!" He exclaimed, turning his head back up again. His hands pulling at the skin of his cheeks, a blemish forming as he did so. 

"Riggs," I said, sighing when Phil looked at me in confusion. "The book is written by Ransom Riggs," My arms are folded across my chest, chuckling as Phil shakes his head once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this first chapter!!! I know that I liked writing it! Let me know your thoughts in the comments, and if I misspelt anything, I'd like to know about that as well.
> 
> Btw, This is the dream Cafe I wish to have when I am an adult and have a wonderful life full cats and friends to keep me company. All of my plans and ideas are fueled into this cafe, and the more I think about it, the more I want to write about it, put that picture in other people's brains. In a sense, I guess I'm Anna, but the name is different bc I don't wanna give it away yet. 
> 
> Also, the cats mentioned in this fic are or were present in my life.
> 
> Also also, the story about Susan is as true as much as I could possibly make it for the story but I did have a friend who tried to call Susan Zepperella. It was dumb, and we don't talk anymore, so it doesn't matter much now. Susan did also break his leg. But anyway, these are all real descriptions of the cats that were or are in my life.
> 
> Leave some love if you want. You know the deal. :)


	2. My Shitty Handwriting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, I did some researching on Cat cafe's and the rules and regulations bit, so things should be more accurate within the story. (now that I have this new knowledge about cafe's and pricing and leases and taxes in London. I didn't even know that VAT/GST was a thing until I looked it up. Taxes are so weird. Also, locations in times square are hard to get, even if its a couple blocks away. I realise now that Anna was hella lucky to get the place she has)
> 
> But I guess you could call me a generous writer. :))

Another two days of boring and monotonous beverage making went by before I found a note taped to my locker in the break room.

_Hi, Dan was it?_

_So, after our talk I was thinking about maybe becoming friends?_

_here's my number if you wanna talk: 020-XXX-XXXX  
(maybe you can give me some good book reccomondations too (; )_

_\--Phil_

I smile after reading the note, inputting the number into my phone, and pocketing the yellow paper once I'm done. 

__

When I'm done in the break room, I am headed towards the main counter and unhooking an apron and tying the drawstring around my waste. I looked around the space, trying to find Phil amongst the other regulars at our shop. Unfortunately, Anna had recently bought a new scratching post castle. This means I had better luck making a beverage in one go rather than finding Phil. 

I looked down at my shoe then, as I suddenly felt a sticky spot on my shoe in place that I stepped in. When I lifted the shoe up to inspect it, there was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom. I sigh, glancing up quickly, jumping back and falling on my ass when I find Phil standing in front of me. The smile on his face never fading. 

"Oh shi- I mean- you uh, scared me there." I say with a goofy grin, grasping onto Phil's surprisingly soft hand and let him pull me back up to stand. I try to ignore this and focus on standing up, but it seems that I don't need too due to the force of which I was being pulled. 

Sorry, about that." Phil replies, sending me another smile, not breaking eye contact.

_Did his eyes always have gold in them?_ Is what I think while I'm looking. What I say is: 

"Oh. . . y-eah. Eyes." I mumble absentmindedly.

"What about my eyes?" Phil quizzes with a quirked eyebrow. I startle all of a sudden, realising that I had been staring.

Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry that this chapter is so short.


	3. Poppin My Cat Allergy Pills

You only know that being alone is lonely when you start working at a cafe. _I _for one, do, so I experience a feeling of both dread and loneliness when I see all of these dates happen before my eyes. With no power at all to ban these foolish doves in my garden of maroon-tipped flowers, I just ignore the feeling until it goes away (and hopefully them too).__

____

I was content with my life, everything planned and methodical. My life seemed to be printed out on a schedule that is formerly known as the calendar hanging on my bedroom wall. But you don't care about that. You care about when I broke my rules, went out on a bender. Like spending too much money or missing a doctor's appointment. those kind of things.

____

I was content and a majority of the time happy (thanks to those pesky doves), until I met Phil. Phil who was always breaking the _People With Cat Allergies are not Meant to Enter a Cat Cafe _rule. Yet, I only bothered to tell him two more times until I got that he didn't really care. Neither did I, but that's beside the point.__

____

__I didn't know that I was lonely until I saw you here (being your cat-allergic self) with another person. Which I shouldn't be surprised about. You have friends._ _

____

__The thing is that there was none to call mine. Just Kidding! I have Louise. Now, only if I called her she would know that I was actually alive and not dead._ _

____

__You only know that you're being creepy when you find yourself looking at a person's direction too many time to be counted as _normal _. You find yourself googling this a'fore mentioned person with only the knowledge of their first name. Congratulations! You have just been classified as a creep, how does it feel?___ _

____

___I wish I spent all my time planning when my next day off is for appointments instead of classifying myself as a creep (and actively being one, as well). I wish the days I spent busting tables and making fancy latte's._ _ _

____

___"Just walk up and start a conversation," My only friend, Louise told me on a late night phone call. I was flopped on my bed, laptop open beside me, scrolling endlessly on Tumblr as she and I talked._ _ _

____

___"I can't just _walk up _to him, Louise. It's. . . complicated," I flung up my arms after I finished, as if she could see my incessant hand gestures.___ _ _

____

___"Well, if you don't talk to him, nothing's going to happen,"_ _ _

____

___So, that's what I did at work. Four days later. Except I didn't walk up to him at all, and he's the one who started conversation with me. Yup, Dan Howell has all the game._ _ _

____

____


End file.
